


Murder on the London Eye

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a murder on the London Eye and Sherlock spots something that no-one else will have noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder on the London Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sherlockmas 2013 Summer Prompt Fest

It was an evening like many others for Ryan Jenkins, summer employee at the London Eye.  The usual selection of passengers: foreign tourists, family groups having a weekend in London, a couple of hen parties, a Brownie pack.  Nothing noteworthy at all.  Just get them out of the pod as quickly as possible so that it can be security checked and the next group got on, without stopping the wheel.  Until …

“Come on, sir, you’ve got to get off.  You’re not allowed to go round again.”

“Sir.  Sir!

“Shit!”

Security stopped the wheel and cursed under his breath at the additional paperwork that would be needed.

Ryan entered the pod.  He shook the man’s shoulder.  No response; hardly any movement either.  The security guy followed, mentally rehearsing the drill for a heart attack and wondering where the hell the bloke’s family or friends were.

“We’ll need to lie him down,” he said.

At that point he realised that the man was wearing a backpack and the backpack had been fastened to the seat.  The man was clearly dead and it wasn’t an accident.

“Phone the police!”

The paperwork had now quadrupled.

***

DI Lestrade was just leaving New Scotland Yard with John and Sherlock and looking forward to a decent pint, when Donovan came rushing after him.

“Sir, you’re needed.  You’d better bring those two with you; it sounds as if it’ll be just up their street.”

Lestrade muttered something rude and then said “In which case you can bring DS Hopkins as well, it’s time he found out what it’s like working in our division.”

By the time they reached the Eye there was a crown gathered.  Lestrade instantly ordered that they be cleared and confirmed that there would be no more rides that evening.

“What about the people still up there?” the manager asked.  “We need to get them down.”

“How urgent is it?”

“There’s the usual collection of ‘I’ve got to be elsewhere – this is totally unacceptable’ which we can ignore, but there are one or two who are genuinely anxious and I’d like to get them off as soon as we can.”

“I understand.  We’ll arrange to have an ambulance standing by.”

Lestrade looked thoughtfully upwards.  “Clearly the killers followed these pathways.  There have been approximately 800 people along here since they arrived.  We’ll be lucky to find anything now.  However they must be amongst the last to leave, so we’ve got a much better chance of finding something there.”

He turned to the manager.  “Is it possible to arrange for people to disembark at the entrance?”

“Yes, that could be done.”

“And I’d like to speak to all those in the next pod in case anyone saw anything.  Can you find somewhere for us to do that?”

The manager nodded and he and Donovan departed to organise the interviews.

Lestrade noticed that John was looking fixedly up at something.  He followed his line of sight. 

“What on earth?”

“Brownies, sir.  It looks like an action song.”

“You have experience with this?” John asked the DS, who had accompanied Lestrade and Donovan.

“Two daughters, sir.”

“Good,” Lestrade replied.  “In that case, Hopkins, I shall leave you here to check the disembarking passengers, whilst we accompany the victim on one more trip on the Eye.”

Anderson had joined them by this time.

“Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Why not?  There’s no difference between investigating the pod as it’s moving and when it’s here.  And it’ll save us half an hour whilst they get everyone else off.”

“And,” Sherlock added “It will let us see if there is anything significant in the circuit.”

“Meanwhile I’ve got officers checking the CCTV.  We should be able to establish who he arrived with,” Lestrade said.

“They take souvenir pictures as well,” Anderson volunteered.

“Oh yes, me and my mate and the man we’ve just killed,” Sherlock said.

“Just a thought,” Anderson muttered.

“At least time of death should be easy to establish.  He must have still been alive when he got on,” Lestrade said.

John had been examining the body.  “I’d say death was caused by a lethal injection of some sort.  I’m surprised he didn’t struggle at all.  Unless ...”

“Yes?”

“Unless he’d been drugged in advance.  Lestrade, it would be worth checking for someone who appeared slightly ill or drunk.”

Sherlock was looking at the contraption holding the dead man in place.  “This is very clever.  The backpack has been specially adapted.  It would have been easy once he was sat down to lean over him and push the frame into place.”

“Could one man have done it?” Lestrade asked.

“If he was as drugged as I imagine he was, he’d have needed two people to get him onto the Eye,” John said.  “So, one to give the lethal injection, one to fix him in place.”

“It would certainly be easier for two people to fix him,” Sherlock said.

“Could it have been a group?” Anderson asked.

“Unlikely.  The greater the number involved the more chance someone would remember them.  A group of three and no-one would look at them,” Sherlock said.

“Except if one was Sherlock Holmes,” John muttered.

Lestrade grinned. “So lean over him ‘Are you feeling better now?’  Bing” – he mimed giving an injection – “Then click, click and he’s in place.”

“More likely ‘clunk, clunk,’ than ‘click, click,’ but yes.  And probably at the top of the circuit when everyone else is looking out.  Do we know who he is?” Sherlock asked.

“Not yet; for some reason he wasn’t carrying any ID.  We may have a better idea by the time we get back down.”  Lestrade paused, before adding, “John what are you doing?”

John was standing by the edge of the pod, with the finger and thumb of his right hand pinched together, whilst using his mobile to take a picture of them.

“Picking up Big Ben.  Sorry.”

Lestrade and Sherlock exchanged glances.  “He needs to get out more,” Lestrade told Sherlock.

 Once they had finished their circuit and the Eye had been finally stopped, Hopkins came back and brought them up to date.

“There’s very little of immediate use on the CCTV – the two men were clearly taking care not to be seen more than absolutely necessary, although there are a few clear pictures of the victim.  So far all we know is that they were white, average height, dark haired, wearing dark t-shirts and jeans.  The tapes have been taken to see what can be enhanced, but that will take time.”

Lestrade grunted.  “Anything else?”

“A couple of the staff remembered someone who seemed rather drowsy.  His friend said he’d taken a sedative as he was rather nervous about going on the Eye.”

Lestrade turned to Sherlock, who was still inspecting the corpse.  “Are you coming?”

“One moment.  Oh, now that’s very interesting.”

“What is?”  Lestrade stepped back into the pod.

“Look at the ring on his finger.  It’s been slightly misshapen.  You don’t see that very often, but one of the causes is regularly driving an old Land Rover.”

“What?”

“John, tell the good Inspector about that article you read to me the other day about Land Rovers.”

“There’s been a spate of thefts of old Land Rovers from various parts of Wales.  Nearly always red ones.”

“Yeah, we got a notice round about it.”

“So we have a man who has spent a lot of time driving Land Rovers who turns up dead on the London Eye.  And a number of stolen vehicles with that description.  Even you should be able to put the two events together.”

Hopkins, who was listening to the exchange, stood open-mouthed.

Lestrade turned to him.  “Hopkins, close your mouth; you are not catching flies.  Get back to the office and find out all you can about these Land Rover thefts.  We’ll join you once I’ve spoken to forensics and the pathologist.”

Lestrade waited whilst the corpse was photographed from every angle, with particular care being taken to obtain several pictures of the frame, including its release.  Once the body had been removed for the post mortem, Lestrade nodded to Sherlock and John and they drove back to the Yard.

***

By the time they reached the Yard, Hopkins had printed out all the information he could find and stuck them onto two large notice boards.

“Looks like we’re in a used car lot,” Lestrade commented.  “But why red?”

“That I can’t tell you, sir,” Hopkins replied. “Although it would appear to be a popular colour in Wales, which is why the majority have been stolen there.  There have been a few from elsewhere; from my initial enquiries it seems it’s been a nationwide problem, but nowhere else have a sufficient number gone missing for the connection to be made.”

John and Sherlock had been inspecting the pictures.  John pointed to a couple of grainy ones and tapped the man in them.

“This looks like our murder victim.  There seems to be someone with him, but I can’t make any details out.  They’re not very clear.”

“They were taken by a couple of farmers, who had grown suspicious about him asking questions,” Hopkins said.  “His name is David Hughes and he deals in used cars.  Cardiff police are going to track down further details, but there seems to be anecdotal evidence that he had bought a number of red Land Rovers lately.”

Sherlock had taken out his magnifying glass and was looking carefully at Hughes’ companion.

“Did anyone mention a man with a limp at all?”

Hopkins checked the statements.  “Yes.  One of the witnesses commented that one of the friends seemed to walk unevenly, because he was supporting the other man.”

“That wasn’t the reason.  I’d say he suffered from polio or something with a similar result as a child.”

“But no-one has that now,” John objected.

“Not in this country, I agree.  I wonder ...” Sherlock started to look for something on his phone.  “Got it.  Did you know that red Land Rovers are a status symbol in Armenia?  And wouldn’t a former Soviet republic be a typical country for childhood illnesses that we no longer suffer from?”

“But we’re talking about stolen Land Rovers and Hughes was apparently buying them.  So what happened?” Lestrade said.

“101 Dalmatians,” John mused.

“What?”  It wasn’t just Sherlock who didn’t follow the allusion.

“Cruella de Vil bought some of the Dalmatians, but when the owners refused to sell them she stole them,” Hopkins explained.  And then, when Lestrade looked at him with raised eyebrows, added “My daughters love the film.”

“Possible, but not likely,” Sherlock said.  “I can’t believe Hughes couldn’t find enough of them to buy.”

“Import restrictions,” Lestrade said suddenly.  “I bet you can only import so many European vehicles in a year and once the limit is reached then that’s it.  So the only way then is to smuggle them in, and why go to the trouble of buying vehicles when you’ve got to illegally import them? May as well go the whole hog and steal them first.”

“Precisely,” Sherlock agreed.

“So what went wrong?”

“That I’m not sure of yet.  Why don’t you go and get yourselves a cup of coffee, or whatever you normally do when it goes quiet, whilst I get on with the thinking.”

Lestrade harrumphed, but took the hint.  He indicated to Hopkins to follow as he and John left the office.  They returned quarter of an hour later to find Sherlock sitting on the floor surrounded by a number of the pictures he had removed from the notice boards.  Lestrade raised his eyebrows at Sherlock.

“I’ve a number of ideas, but they need testing.  Have you found anything of use?”

Hopkins replied, “I made some enquires about the legitimate exports.  Everything was in order: vehicle, correctly completed V5, MOT, owners’ handbooks.”

Sherlock’s head shot up, “Owners’ handbooks?”

“Yes sir.  The new owners were probably pleased to have them.”

“These are old Land Rovers.  Some of them may have had handbooks, but the majority would have been taken out and mislaid or forgotten about.”

Sherlock sat stock still, clearly collating all the facts.  He looked up in annoyance as someone knocked on the door.

Lestrade opened it to find DI Dimmock.

“Sorry to intrude.  We’ve had a fatal stabbing.  The dead man has a text on his phone instructing him to be at the place where he was killed.  We’ve picked up the man who sent the text, but he and his companion have the perfect alibi.  They were stuck on the London Eye due to a police investigation.”

“Can they prove it?” Sherlock asked.

“They showed us their tickets.”

“When was the text sent?”

“About an hour before the meeting time.”

“They were never on the Eye.  They bought the tickets and then departed, because they knew there was going to be a delay.”

“How could they do that?” Dimmock asked.

“Because they knew that would be the result once the dead body had been discovered.  I want to try something.  Can you get me a vehicle owner’s handbook?”

Everyone looked at Sherlock as if they were desperately trying to follow his thought processes.

Finally Hopkins said “I’ve got one in my car, but it’s a Ford.”

“I don’t think it will make a difference.  I want to see their initial reaction.”

Sherlock explained his plan.  They all watched as Dimmock returned to the interview, following him so that they could watch the proceedings via the two-way mirror in the interview room.  One of the men was starting to look nervous.  Dimmock explained that he had a few more questions and then produced Hopkins’ handbook.  There was an expression of panic on the face of the nervous man as he looked towards his companion.  Dimmock then announced that they would be interviewing the men separately.  The second man started to object and Dimmock asked him whether he was in a hurry to be somewhere.  He glared at Dimmock, but the other suspect flushed.  Dimmock turned to him and the watchers heard him mutter “I’ve got to catch a train.”

“And which train might that be?”

The man, presumably realising the damage that had been done, refused to answer.

Sherlock looked across at Lestrade, who said “I bet he’s not the only one with a train to catch.  I’ll arrange for a watch to be made for our Armenian suspect.”

Once Lestrade had left, Sherlock turned to John, “We’ve found out all we’re going to learn from these two.  There’s nothing more for us here; I need to run an experiment.  Come on, John, back to Baker Street.”

***

A couple of days later, Lestrade went round to 221B to tell Sherlock that although they had caught and arrested the Armenian and his compatriot, who they suspected was the other man on the London Eye, they had been instructed to arrange for them to leave the country.  When John let him into the flat, he discovered Mycroft Holmes was also present.

“Ah, inspector, my congratulations on ridding our country of two undesirable aliens.”

“I would prefer to have brought them to trial.”

“I’m afraid that would never have happened.  The good news is that our American cousins are extremely annoyed about the whole affair.”

“That documents were being smuggled out disguised as handbooks?”

“Well, yes.  But principally because we found out how it was being done before they did.”  Mycroft permitted himself a small chuckle.

“I still don’t understand why the London Eye was used, or what Hughes had done that required his demise.  And I presume now that I’ll never know.”

“It’s not really that much of a secret,” Sherlock said.

Mycroft glared at him, but didn’t comment, so Sherlock continued.

“Hughes hadn’t done anything specific, apart from being involved in the process.  There was always a danger that he would talk once the Armenians had left the country, so, as with Dimmock’s stabbing victim, he was despatched.  The choice of the London Eye was a statement of superiority: we can do what we like where we like and you can do nothing about it.  It also should have provided a perfect alibi for the other death.”

“And it would have worked if you hadn’t noticed Hughes’ ring,” John said.

“But they still got away with it,” Lestrade muttered.

“I am not sure that I agree with you, inspector,” Mycroft replied.  “The people who commissioned the smuggling will not be happy about this dramatic gesture; it signifies that they can no longer use this method to obtain documents.  We believe the perpetrators would have left the UK and moved elsewhere, repeating their modus operandi, which they will not now be able to do.  I imagine there will be repercussions upon their return home.”

Lestrade shook his head.  “It’s not the way I would like things, but I know there’s nothing I can do about it.  Anyway, I’ve promised I’ll buy Hopkins a drink or two to thank him for all his efforts.  Anyone want to join us?”

“I’ll get my jacket,” John said.  “Sherlock, are you coming?”

“I was planning on repeating yesterday’s experiment, since you threw out some of the ingredients.”

Mycroft, who had started to leave, was nearly crushed in the doorway as John and Lestrade made a hasty exit.

“We’ll warn Mrs Hudson to go out for the evening as we leave,” John called out.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> John picking up Big Ben: http://thesmallhobbit.tumblr.com/post/54922572321
> 
> My husband gave his wedding ring to my son when he got married. When he took it in to be adjusted the jeweller commented on the fact that it was slightly misshapen and said this could well be due to the owner driving old Land Rovers.


End file.
